The Summer Between
by drawingtoaclose
Summary: High school just ended. College is not until the fall. Carly, Sam, Freddie and Gibby have two months off to cut loose. What kind mischief will they get into? Is there love in the air for our four eligible singles?
1. Reggae in the Park

**_Notes from the drawing table:_ Well...here I go. My first attempt to post a multi-chapter fic. [I would prefer to stick with one-shots or just make a chapter 1 for my other ideas then leave it at that!] Oh well. I have a few chapters of this one roughed out. Here's to seeing it thru. **

**Oh yeah - I hate the title. I consulted with my favorite 2b pencil for 15 minutes and it refused to help me. I even said "pretty please."**

**Disclaimer: [bleccccch!] **

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_The Summer Between_

1. Reggae in the park

"You know what's weird, Freddie"?

"Yeah - _Them_. Look at 'em."

Carly glanced over at the packed, sundrenched dance floor and smiled. Loud reggae music played by a colorfully dressed live band blared out of speakers piled high on the cement stage. Seattle's most famous landmark, The Space Needle, rose majestically in the background, dwarfing the band and the end-to-end glass mosaic mural that served as the stage's backdrop.

At the edge of the pulsating mass of dancers, were two of Carly and Freddie's best friends, Sam and Gibby.

Sam, long blonde hair spilling out of a red, yellow, and green knit hat, eyes closed and arms high, swayed and undulated slowly to an internal rhythm only she could feel, oblivious to the world around her.

Gibby, shirtless, sweaty and easily a foot taller than his diminutive dance partner, was doing his best 'Gibby' version of Reggae dancing. He wore a huge smile, occasionally clapping his hands in front of his shirtless body, oddly in time with the unusual beat of the music. He and Sam made quite the pair.

"Well, yeah . . . they are weird in their own way. But I'm not talking about that."

"Well then, what's so weird"?

"Me and you, Freddie, that's what's so weird."

"Us…? You and I are the two most _normal _people we know."

"Maybe we're _too_ normal, Freddie. You know – too _boring_"?

"I don't understand Carly. What are you getting at"?

"We have the next two months off. It's Memorial Day weekend. It is a perfect, clear sunny day in Seattle, one of the most beautiful cities in America. We are in a nice park right next to one of the most impressive man-made structures ever. We are with two of our best friends, and all we are doing is sitting here getting sunburned."

"We put on sunblock, Carly. We'll be fine."

"You're such a _boy_," Carly said as she reached over and gave Freddie a playful shove on the shoulder.

"I _meant_ that we are just _sitting_ here, dorkyboy – for two hours. We should be out there dancing like they are."

"Oh . . . well, I guess. I don't know. It's hard for me to dance to this music. It's kind of embarrassing. There are so many people. You know I'm not really a good dancer."

"Freddie, you've _random_ _danced_ on iCarly a million times. In front of millions on the internet. How can dancing here be _embarrassing_"?

"I don't know. It's just not the same. That's in the studio. There are only a few of us. I never really think about the viewers watching. This is a public park full of strangers. Anyway, it was not a _million_ times, Carly. I've only danced on camera a few times."

"They aren't embarrassed," Carly said, pointing back to Gibby and Sam.

"Carly, Sam is _never_ embarrassed. You know that. She could care less who is watching."

"What about Gib, Freddie? He looks like he is having a great time and he's not exactly Usher."

Gibby must have felt their eyes on him because he smiled the waved them over to join in the dancing fun. Carly weakly waved back.

"Oh C'mon, Carly . . . he's a bigger _showoff_ than Sam is. Remember the time he started dancing in the frozen aisle at the supermarket"?

"Oh-my-God – that was so funny," she replied. "Remember he said, 'because this song _speaks_ to me'."

"It was _muzak_, Carly! That stuff doesn't _speak_ to anybody."

"It was funny, Freddie. We were cracking up in the car the whole way back. You were, too."

"He didn't _have_ to take his shirt off. People were _running_ out of the aisle. Sometimes I think he does this stuff on purpose just to cause a scene and scare everyone. He is worse than Sam in some ways, ya know. Maybe there really is something _wrong_ with him."

"Freddie, you know that isn't true. Be nice to Gibby. He's our friend."

"I know, but look at him. Look at . . . _them_."

A smiling Carly turned her attention to her friends dancing carefree, just as a song ended. Gibby leaned and grabbed Sam under both arms. He Effortlessly lifted her high above his six-foot six frame and shouted; "We . . . _are_ . . . _**AWESOME**_"! Sam squirmed and thrashed like a fish on a hook, bright yellow converse flashing about dangerously.

"**Put me down right now, you **_**oversized**__**meatball**_** or I'm gonna** . . ."

The rest of the threat went unheard as the music kicked back on. Not that it mattered anyway. Gone were the days when Sam could manhandle Gibby. His growth spurt had taken care of that.

Carly and Freddie broke into fits of laughter as they watched the brief, but comical, encounter. They laughed even harder as the enormous _fisherman_ plopped his wriggling _catch_ back to her feet, all the while being beaten over the head by Sam's soft, crocheted hat. Frustrated, she yanked the hat back on almost to her eyes, then hauled off and punched her tormenter in the stomach with all the gusto she could muster. Gibby just laughed it off. Satisfied, Sam fixed her multicolored tam and then they went back to dancing as if the whole thing never happened.

Freddie and Carly, wiping away hysterical tears, gathered themselves.

"See . . . you need to loosen up, mister. Be more like they are. Do you want to be known as the most uptight college freshman ever? We've got two months to have fun before school starts. That's exactly what I want to do."

"Me? What about you? You're not exactly _wild_ and _crazy_, young lady."

"I know. Maybe I can . . . maybe _**we**_ can, change that a bit this summer. You know – cut loose some"?

Freddie ran his hand through his thick, brown hair and pushed himself from his elbow to a seated position.

"Ok, Miss Shay – let's _cut_ _loose_ as you say. Do you _really_ wanna go out there and dance with ole _soft_ _shoe_ Benson"?

Carly turned and watched the sea of dancers for a moment before speaking.

"Um, maybe you're right. It is super crowded out there. Maybe later, when it thins out"?

"Hah," Freddie replied pointing to Carly. "It's a lot different out here in a park full of strangers, isn't it? That's cool, though. We can leave the dancing to them, for now."

"Ok, Freddie. Yeah – cool for now," Carly agreed, sounding distant.

"Hey Shay, I'm almost out of water anyway. Wanna walk with me to get more"?

"And Freddie," she began, ignoring the question, "I wouldn't call Gibby a _showoff_. He's just being himself. He's just . . . ya know . . . _Gibby_ . . ."

Carly's voice trailed off, eyes fixed on her offbeat friend Gibby, who continued to dance and clap, oblivious to her stare.

Freddie, bottle of water frozen to his lips, followed Carly's distracted gaze over to the dance floor. He glanced back and forth between his two friends a few times before settling his eyes on Carly. She had a smile on her face and seemed completely enraptured with Gibby's every movement.

"_No WAY_ **. . ."** he quietly gasped.

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_**Under the table: Ok. I guess that's a start. I planned this to be "Gibbycentric" but now I guess I'll attempt to follow the four of them for the summer. That could make for a looooonnng story. **_

_**Per usual, feedback much appreciated.**_

**_DTaC_.**


	2. We Made It

_**Notes from the drawing table:**__** My first ever CHAPTER II ! All Gibby and Sam. **_

**_Just have to express my admiration for all those who publish multichapter fics. I'm finding out that oneshots are much easier. _**

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_**The Summer Between**_

2. We Made It

"Gibby"!

Engrossed in the music and lost his own 'dancing' world, Gibby didn't respond so Sam lightly slapped one of his swaying hands.

"Yo, Sammie. Why'd you stop dancing? I was about to unleash some new _moooves_," he replied, and then almost tripped as he attempted a lumbering spin.

Sam chuckled and shook her head. "C-mon '_moves'_, let's go . . . I'm hungry."

"Wow, already"?

When she turned to walk away, Gibby reached out and playfully snagged a handful of long, wavy blonde hair and held her back.

"We've been dancing for like an hour," she said, squirming out of Gibby's long-armed grasp. "Lucky for you you're so big now, dude," she snapped. "I wanted to kill you back there when you were tossing me in the air like a pizza crust." Sam readjusted her disheveled cap and punctuated the threat with an angry glare that quickly transformed into an ear-to-ear grin.

"Just one of the perks of being _Gibby," _he replied, returning her smile.

"Yeah, well, I almost hurled this morning's _perks_ all over your big, melon head. Bet you would've _loved_ that," she said, jumping up to swipe at his hair.

"Oh - not cool, Sam. Never mess with the 'doo'," he flinched while lightly checking his gelled spikes with the palm of his hand.

"C-mon, Gib - I _gotta_ get more of that jerk chicken. It was _awesome_! Let's hit that _food_ _court_," she said, motioning with typical Samantha Puckett flare.

"_True dat_," he agreed enthusiastically, as he grabbed his little carnivorous pal by the right shoulder. "_'Moves'_ . . . I _love_ that"!

"Good, Gib, it's all yours." Again, she shrugged off his oversized mitt. "Let's find Carly and Freddie. They must be famished from counting all those blades of grass. And Gib - what's up with all the grabbin' on me today? You got a _thing_ for me all of a sudden"?

"_Nah_ Sammie . . . just feelin' good," he answered, tossing his oak-like arm around her. "It was a struggle but . . . _we_ _made_ _it_. High school is _done._ The future is set. Now we've got the entire summer to party and do whatever we want." Gibby squeezed Sam into his enormous body. "Yup _short_ _stuff_ . . . _Gibby's_ feelin' _good_."

"_Freedom_, big guy . . . _nuthin' _like it_," _she agreed cheerfully, while unwrapping the happy giant's heavy arm from around her shoulders.

This was her favorite Gibby . . . '_Good mood_' Gibby. It had been awhile since his last explosion, but _nobody_ wanted to be around when '_Bad mood' _Gibby surfaced. His incredible growth spurt had wreaked havoc on his system, which had resulted in some scary mood swings. Today was too nice of a day to worry about any of that, though. They'd been through a lot and had grown close over the last year, so if her best guy friend wanted to walk with his big-ole arm around her, then Sam Puckett could live with that.

Arms intertwined, they wandered back and forth across the lawn looking for Carly and Freddie. After ten minutes of searching, Sam stopped and dug her phone out of her pocket. "This is dumb . . . why are we _walking_ around? I'll just text Carly."

While Sam pressed the button to wake up her cell, Gibby decided that he'd had enough of the sun so pulled his t-shirt on.

"Wait . . . Carly texted . . . _no way,_" Sam exclaimed. "Here Gib . . . check _this_ out."

Shading the phone from the sun's glare, he read the text aloud:

_*drinking free beer in beer garden. meet us there! carly*_

"Beer"?

"_Free_ _beer_, Gib! I can't imagine how _those_ two pulled that off, but let's get over there fast before they screw it up. That text was almost forty-five minutes ago."

Sam stuffed the phone into her back pocket and started across the crowded lawn, not so politely weaving her way around huggy couples, lawn chairs and picnic blankets. Free beer was almost as good as free food. Not that she drank a lot, but she'd attended quite a few 'senior' parties in the past several months and had developed a taste for good beer. After all, free was _free_.

Gibby, with his long stride, caught up quickly.

"Carly must be kidding, right? She can't mean _beer_, beer. How can it be free, anyway? They gotta be pulling our _chiz_."

"If I go all the way over there for _nothing_, the only thing that's gonna get pulled is Freddie's geeky head . . . right off his shoulders"!

"Pffuh. If you say so, _pipsqueak_," he replied sarcastically.

"_Wha_- "

"I can't believe Carly is drinking, especially after what happened last time," Gibby said, interrupting. "Spencer never found out, right"?

"_Hell_ _no_, dude. I'd never rat out my best friend. We got a ride back to my house from Wendy's uncle - _remember_? We called Spence and told him that Carly had 'girly problems' so she was going to spend the night. He didn't want to hear nuthin' else after that. It was all cool."

Gibby didn't remember much from that night except for the huge mansion Wendy's uncle owned on the lake where they partied, and that they all did too much drinking. He agreed anyway.

"Oh . . . _yeah_. Your _mom_ didn't' care"?

"You know how my mom is with that stuff: _Kids will be kids. What Spencer doesn't know won't hurt him. Wait until she wakes up . . . that will be punishment enough."_

Sam could usually count on her mother to keep a bit of teenaged mischief on the down low. She didn't make a fuss if her daughter drank an occasional beer at home. After all, Pam wasn't the strictest parent in the world. '_Samantha, I'm not gonna buy beer for you, but if you find a way to get it on your own, you sneaky little shit, I won't take it away. Just don't get arrested 'cuz I ain't bailin' you outta the can. I'd rather you and your friends drink here so I can keep an eye on you. And if you get yourself all drunk and sick, don't come crying to me.' _

Motherly advice that could only come from Pam Puckett. Advice Sam found humorous because her mother was rarely home to keep an eye on anybody.

As they exited the amphitheater grounds, Sam tapped Gibby on the arm and stopped. "Gib, what did you mean before"?

"Before what"?

"Well . . . after I said I was going to whup Freddie's butt if they were lying about the beer - you kind of _scoffed_."

Gibby studied Sam's questioning face. "You want the truth"?

"Yes! What the _he_-" but before she could finish, a green golf cart marked 'maintenance', honked them out of the way.

They crossed out of the middle of the paved access road to the shade of the tree-lined sidewalk.

"Ok, Sammie . . . truth. Do you _still_ **_really _**think that you can take Freddie? He's _letting_ you win all those 'wrestling' matches, ya know. He loves having you on top of him, crawling all over him, pinning him to the ground or where ever. It's all a _ploy_. Freddie has _you_ suckered. He's . . ."

"What? I can wipe the floor with that _dork_ any day of the week"!

"Ok, _half-pint_ . . . you keep believing that. Look at you and look at Freddie. You weigh a hundred and a bit and that _'_nerd' can bench press three times that. He's playing you. He's not that _wimpy_ _little_ _tech_-_geek_ anymore. I'm tellin' ya Sam . . . he's got . . ."

"Freddie will _always_ be a _**wimpy **__**little **__**geek **_to me. This is a ridiculous conversation. Let's go before those two get caught and blow our chance to get our drink on."

Sam turned to march off but Gibby stepped in front to block her path.

"I thought you wanted the _truth_? Listen to me . . . haven't you noticed how often Freddie pokes and prods _you_ into arguments now? You don't even have to _start_ them. Like the other night at Carly's after graduation . . . we were all chillin' and talking about college and the future and all that"?

"Yeah. Freddie was being annoying and wouldn't stop with all that _'the Puckett Plague is about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting world', _so I slammed him. That shut him up."

"Oh, _little_ _one_, you are so delusional," Gibby said, shaking his head. "What you couldn't see while you were on top of him was Freddie winking at me and making the mock 'help me please' face. He could have tossed you off and pinned you in a second. That wasn't the first time, either. Freddie's got a _mad_ . . ."

"You're crazy, Gib. I think all that hair gel is seeping into your brain."

"Sam, he did the same thing the day we went to watch that JV baseball game. He kept buggin' that you had a crush on that kid who hit the homerun, Mark, until you couldn't take it anymore? So you chased Freddie across the outfield in the middle of the inning and attacked him? He came back with the biggest smile on his face. Freddie's just letting you do whatever you want because . . ."

"_Because_ _he's_ _a __**do**__ -"_

"_**SAMMIE!**_ Let me finish. It's _because _Freddie has a _mad_ _crush_ on you. How can you not see it"?

Sam looked at Gibby with a stunned expression that came dangerously close to turning into a smile, but she quickly recovered.

"Whatever," she snapped, darting around him. "The only thing that boy has a crush on is his mommy and all of his nerd-gear"!

Matching her pace along the shady sidewalk, Gibby continued.

"_Sammie_, you and I hang out a lot and I _see_ the way you look at him. I saw you watching him chat up Becca in the lunchroom that day . . . the little blondie tenth-grader . . . the one who everybody says looks like you? You _hate_ watching baseball. You only came with us to keep an eye on Freddie because you know that Becca keeps score for . . ."

**"Dude"!** Sam growled. "You and Wendy with all this '_I know you're in to Freddie_' crap! I don't want to talk about this anymore. C-mon Gib," she said, stopping at the crosswalk, "let's just go get some beers – _alright_"?

"I'm tellin' ya true, _short_ _stuff," _he said, stepping closer to his best friend, female or otherwise."In two months, Freddie will be _away_ at college and you're gonna be here in Seattle and it might be too late for you guys. There will be tons of college chicks for him to choose from. None of them are gonna know or care that Freddie Benson used to be a nerd or what he was like when he was fourteen. He's bound to fall for at least one of them." Gibby put a hand on each of Sam's shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "Sammie, that chick _should_ be you."

Silently, Sam looked down and kicked at her yellow converse. "I don't know, Gib," she said, barely above a whisper then pulled away.

"He'll _never_ make a move Sammie . . . so you're gonna have to."

She turned to face Gibby, ignoring the 'walk' signal.

"Why do you care about this anyway? _NOT_ that any of it is true."

"I just want my friends to be happy . . . especially _you_, short stuff. Both of you are avoiding a good thing . . . and one of you has to do something before it's too late."

Peering up at her towering friend, she smiled sweetly.

"You're a good dude . . . _Charles_," she said, strands of blonde hair waving in front of her deep, blue eyes. Rarely did anyone use Gibby's given name. She did so only when they were discussing important or personal issues. An increasingly frequent occurrence as they grew closer and as their friendship grew stronger.

She offered a knuckle bump, which Gibby readily accepted.

"We should be working on getting _you_ a woman, Gib."

"No worries, Sammie - _The_ _Gibster's_ time is coming."

Knowing Sam as well as he did, Gibby decided it was best to drop the discussion for now. Naturally guarded and cautious, Sam didn't express her true feelings easily. While she'd never actually said anything to him about liking Freddie as more than a friend, he could see it in the way she acted when Freddie was around. Freddie, under the influence of a few bottles of beer, may or may not have let his feelings for the girl whom he often referred to as a 'blonde demon', slip to Wendy the night at the lake party. Surprisingly, she wasn't saying much and Freddie hadn't said anything since. Sadly, it seemed as if his friends were content to remain as sparring partners forever.

No sense ruining the rest of the holiday weekend by pushing the issue, he figured. It was still early and they had the whole day, including the headliner concert at the stadium across the way, ahead of them. Anyway, he had his own relationship situation to ponder.

The duo crossed to where most of the food and vendors were set up. Rows and rows of stalls, selling all kinds of Jamaican themed food and merchandise, jammed the circular park. Irresistible aromas floated in the air. Still distracted by the conversation and unable to resist her gnawing hunger, Sam temporarily forgot about the chance for free beer. Gibby, always more interested in food than drink anyway, was happy to hang out and eat his fill. After they ate, Gibby and Sam meandered from booth to booth and browsed through clothing, jewelry and all manner of goods.

"Sam, how about this one"?

Gibby held up a light tan, linen, button down with faint brown pinstripes and an embroidered logo above the left pocket.

"Nice Gib. They got one in _your_ size"?

"Yup. 3X - Tall. Perfect."

Sam reached and felt the material.

"How much"?

"The lady wanted fifty-five," he whispered, looking back to the ancient attendant who smiled at him, "but I think I can talk her down."

"Fifty-five bucks! You must be rollin' deep, big guy."

"I told you that my dad bought two more apartment buildings, right? _He's_ rollin' deep. He gave me a butt load of money for graduation. I'm set for the summer with plenty to spare."

While Gibby haggled, Sam sorted through the jewelry a few rows over. Almost all of the pieces she liked were some combination of red, green, black and yellow. She settled on two simple, rope 'friendship' anklets for her and Carly and a necklace/bracelet combo for herself. Just twelve bucks total. She didn't have a 'rollin' deep' dad like Gibby - or much of a dad at all for that matter - so she had to be careful with her money.

Sam spun the anklets repeatedly between her thumb and finger and thought about Carly Shay and the bond they'd formed over the past five years. A few more iCarly's and that chapter of their lives would be closed. With college starting in the fall, she wondered how much she would see of her best friend. Their lives were changing fast and Sam wasn't sure if she was ready to let go. She started to drift back to her conversation with Gibby about Freddie –

"_Are you ready, Sam"? _

Gibby's voice jogged her back to the present.

"Uh . . . sure. How'd it go"?

Gibby proudly announced that he'd bargained down to forty-three dollars. He was wearing the new shirt, unbuttoned, exposing his t-shirt underneath. When they passed the stall where he'd made his purchase, the tiny merchant, who had to be at least seventy-five years old, smiled and waved.

"Tanks, Gee-bay . . . yu mek good haggla"!

Gibby waved back, "Thanks, Ezola"!

Sam couldn't restrain a giggle.

"_Ezola_? What was that all about"?

"_I_ . . . don't really know. I think she thought I was cute."

Sam smirked and held back more laughter. "Yep - I'd say _The_ _Gibster's_ time has come. I'd get her number if I were you, _big_ _guy_."

"What can I say . . . the old ladies love them some _Gibby_."

Sam's phone buzzed with a text that she read as they walked.

_*where r u? PAR - TAAY! WoooHooo! Carly* _

"Uh . . . Gib . . . I think we better find Carly and Freddie . . . _fast_."

Following paper signs that pointed to the way, they entered the expansive plaza whose centerpiece was the fifty-year-old fountain. Kids and adults stood close and allowed themselves to be drenched by the steady streams of water that gushed from the silver dome. Others ran back and forth, halfheartedly trying to dodge the intermittent bursts that erupted from underground jets. Shouts and excited screeches from the smaller kids brought back fond memories. Both had been there many times in their young lives. Today they had no interest in playing in the water. The only liquid they were interested in was beer. Possibly – _free_ beer.

On the other side of the plaza, a temporary chain-link fence enclosed the area designated, 'beer garden'. It didn't quite reach the tree line that bordered the park on three sides. No one appeared to be checking ID's so Sam and Gibby sidestepped a wobbly couple exiting and waltzed right in. Gibby probably could have entered unchallenged anyway. His height often masked his age. Sam may have had a problem if anyone cared to look. Sam was a pro, though. She knew how to act like she belonged, even if she didn't.

Wooden kiosks surrounded several large trees near the center of the well-trampled lawn. Most had colorful awnings advertising some brand of beer. Others sold food, which Sam made a mental note of for later. Tinny sounding reggae music sputtered from small speakers dispersed throughout the park. White plastic tables of varying shapes and sizes stretched from fence to fence. Red and white umbrellas emblazoned with the Red Stripe logo, Jamaica's national beer, sprouted from most. As far as Sam could tell, nearly all the chairs were occupied with happy beer and wine drinkers.

"Where would you guess they are, Sammie"?

"If I know miss-goody-two-shoes and Fredmammas boy, they're hiding all the way in the back."

"Then all the way to the back it is."

They wandered down the middle aisle, vaguely defined by the spacing of the tables. Sam scanned to the right and Gibby scanned to the left. Nothing was still. Someone was constantly getting up from, or returning to, a table. A steady flow of patrons, like ants, streamed back and forth to the kiosks.

A group of three college-aged guys sitting at one of the tables watched as they approached. One of the three, a dark-haired kid, shirtless and muscular, full cup of beer in hand, stood up and spoke.

"Hey, _sexy mama . . ._ why don't you ditch the gorilla and hang out with us for a while. Me and my _boys_ - _we_ know how to _party_."

Gibby froze dead in his tracks and shot a menacing look. Before he could say or do anything, Sam took the lead. An overconfident, loudmouth frat boy didn't intimidate her in the least. She approached kid but didn't say a word. When they were almost toe-to-toe, she took the beer out of his hand and drained it with one long gulp.

"So do I," she said, confidently, and handed back the empty cup.

The surprised frat boy looked like he was about to say something but he didn't. His buddies erupted in to fits of laughter and threw mocking comments his way as he sat back down, empty-handed and grumbling.

Sam had no idea why, but when she got back to Gibby, she pulled his face down and kissed him on the cheek, making sure the college guys were watching. Gibby didn't react. He continued to eye the group dangerously. Before his building rage could boil over and start real trouble, Sam tugged Gibby by the arm:

"Forget it, Gib – just another moron who's not worth your trouble."

Sam hustled Gibby away. She knew he'd grown used to comments about his size. Most of them, especially if they came from his friends, didn't bother him. Of all the insults the kid could have picked, he had to use 'gorilla', one that Gibby specifically hated. Please, let's not run into those guys anymore today, she hoped.

When they were about twenty yards from the rear fence, Gibby spoke:

"Holy chiz, Sam. Is that Carly"?

"Where"?

"In the left corner. Last table."

Sam's view, briefly obstructed, opened up. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Carly was standing on one of the flimsy chairs dancing slowly and shaking her head to the music. Freddie was holding Carly's chair steady with one hand so it wouldn't tip, and drinking from a plastic cup with the other. There looked to be six or seven empty cups on the table.

Sam and Gibby looked at each other with the 'what the hell?' expression.

"_Oh shit, Gib,_" Sam mumbled low, "_here we go again."_

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**_under the table: Clarification - in case the the portrayal of Gibby seems to not make sense. My Gibby has grown to 6'6" and weights about 260 - 300 lbs. He's partially based on twin guys who were seniors when I was a freshman. They were both 6'6", big and had the gentle giant reputation until provoked. Also partially based on a good friend of mine who is almost that big and full of good advice. Plus . . . I think Noah Munck is going to grow into a big kid. I like the ultra-cool, Tasha era Gibby._**

**_The first three chapters take place in the Seattle Center complex. You can google it to see a map if you care to see roughly how the 'movement' in these chapters takes place. I'm sure there are many errors. I love the 'satellite view of my house' website!_**

**_I'm very disappointed with the grammar check that comes with Windows 7/Office 2010. It should be more strict. Anybody have any suggestions? I'm back to relying on my college writing textbook to correct my many grammatical shortcomings! At this pace . . . I might be forced to actually learn the rules of grammar by heart. What fun is that?_**

**_Happy Reading! (and writing) DTaC._**


	3. Cuttin' Loose!

_**notes from the drawing table: **__**Welcome to Chapter III. Finally. DTaC isn't here right now. I'm his editor. I sent him away to a 'longwinded authors anonymous' meeting. Otherwise this chapter never would have gotten finished or posted. He continued to maintain that every one of his over 8,000 words that originally made up this chapter were BRILLIANT and BEYOND REPROACH. Silly Artists with their overinflated egos. I'm going to work on his heavy reliance on elipses, next. Those annoying little dots that make him think he's so clever and natural in his dialog writing. **_

_**TWELVE hours editing and trying to whip this chapter in to decent enough shape to post. [I'm glad those meetings are so long] And he doesn't even pay me for my services.**_

_**Three long passages were heartlessly deleted or chopped to bare bones by me, the pragmatic editor. The only thing they added to this story: more words! Don't tell him I said that. **_

_**Also: he slipped into quite a bit of first person but it should read ok. It's in italics.**_

**_This one is still pretty long. Oh...look who is back...MR EGOMANIAC himself. He's demanding I thank all those who read and reviewed the story so far. Please enjoy, he says and he'll read all reviews with a smile. _**

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_**The Summer Between**_

3. Cuttin' loose!

Freddie finished gulping down his beer then smacked the plastic cup onto the ever-growing stack, feeling drunk. For a split second, he couldn't quite remember where he was. _Oh yeah, _he thought_, _focusing on the rocking in his right hand _. . . we're at Seattle Center and the reggae festival. Carly's dancing on the chair and the rough edge is digging into my hand._

"Dude," he heard, "what up with all the beers and how can we get some"?

_Sam!_

Turning, he saw was a flash of blonde hair and an arm dart across the table towards the last full cup. He released his hold on Carly's chair and made a grab for the beer, but Sam was too quick. Without a steadying hand, the lightweight chair tipped sideways from under the slim brunette teen, who would have jackknifed straight into the dirt if it weren't for Gibby, who made a quick lunge and caught her awkwardly into his big body.

"Hi _Gibbbbeee_," she said coyly, laying her head on his wide chest. "You're so _strong._"

Caught off guard by Carly's unexpected flirty-ness, Gibby's blushed and set her down, then looked to catch Sam's raised eyebrows.

"Sam . . . _give_ me back my beer. Don't make me come around this table and _take_ it from you."

"_Hah"!_ Sam exclaimed. "One . . . I'm not scared of you . . . and two . . . from the looks of it, Fred-_lush_ . . . you've had plenty of beers already," she said, gesturing to the plastic pyramid, about to drink the beer.

"_That's it_,_"_ Freddie said, then made his move.

Sam immediately handed the full cup to Gibby and braced herself. Freddie was stronger, but she was quicker and he was at least a little drunk so if he wanted to have a go, she figured she had the upper hand. Several thoughts zipped through her mind – _Has Freddie really been letting me win all our fights? Are we going to rumble in front all these people? Will security kick us out? Freddie's pecs look so good in that tight shirt! _– in the few seconds it took him to kick out the chair and round the table.

Preparing to evade his rush and execute one of her favorite tripping moves, she started to shift her weight but Freddie pulled up at the last second. _Damn_, she thought, disappointed. She had to admit she was looking forward to getting all _grabby_ with Freddie again.

"Aww . . . _Gib_," he whined over his blonde rival's shoulder, "_c'mon_ man . . . that was the last one."

_He definitely sounds drunk_, Sam noted.

"Thanks for the beer, bud."

Sam glanced to see Gibby toss the empty cup in to the metal trashcan behind him.

"You owe me a beer, Puckett." Freddie snapped, wagging his finger in her face, which she swiped at but missed as he yanked it away smirking.

"Whatever," she snapped back, snidely.

Returning to his side of the table, Freddie flipped Carly's overturned chair upright before dumping himself into his own. Gibby snagged two more from the unoccupied table next to them, giving one to Sam. He hated this cheap outdoor furniture. It wasn't made for guys his size so he had to make sure to sit with his feet wide and his weight forward.

"_Where_ have you guys been? We've been here for like, _hours,_" Carly said, slurring her words.

"Well, we stopped to-"

"_Who cares"!_ Carly said, waving away her best friend's answer.

"What have _we_ been doing, Freddie"? Carly asked loudly.

"_Cuttin' loose"! _Freddie called in response.

"Who's gonna have the most fun this summer"?

"_Benson and Shay"!_

"How we gonna do it"?

"_We're gonna party hard"!_

"Why we gonna do it"?

"_Cuz that's the Benson and Shay way"! _He thrust both arms high as if he'd just crossed a finish line in first place.

Carly leapt and high-fived Freddie before falling clumsily on to her chair, almost missing. Straightening up, she pulled close to the table and to Gibby.

Barely believing what they just witnessed, Gibby and Sam eyed their friends then each other.

"That was the stupidest thing ever I've ever heard," Sam said, shaking her blonde mane, "only _nerds_ could come up with something as lame as that."

"_Wow_, that was . . . _not cool_," Gibby agreed. "Now," he said slapping his meaty palm on the table, "just tell us how you guys got beers? Aren't they _carding_"?

"Because _Barrington_ loves us"! Carly barked gleefully, resting her hand on Gibby's forearm, rubbing. "You have _nice_ _aaarrmms_, Gibby. Doesn't Gibby have nice arms, Sam? They're so _big_ and _strong_."

Rarely embarrassed, Gibby felt himself blushing for the second time in just a few minutes. He placed his right hand over Carly's to get her to stop. It dwarfed the brunette's pale, slender fingers. Trumping his right hand with her left, she beamed.

Sam wasn't sure what to think. _Is Carly sweet on Gib? Is she flirting with him or is she just really drunk? Interesting . . ._

Checking to see if Freddie was reacting to his dream girl's apparent flirting, Sam found him smiling and gazing in her direction instead.

"Ok Benson," she started, her blue eyes arresting his brown, "tell momma how you got the brew."

Again, Carly chimed in, revved up.

"Because Barrington _loves_ us, I _told_ you Sam he _loves_ us. He loves _iCarly_ . . . I mean . . . he has a daughter, you know . . . she's fifteen . . . _she_ loves us . . . _iCarly_ . . . me and you and Freddie and –"

"_CARLY"!_ Sam snapped at her obviously intoxicated best friend. "Hang on a sec." Again, she looked to Freddie, who was still smiling. _Like an idiot, _she thought.

Sitting forward with both elbows on the table, which was sticky with spilled beer, Sam noted annoyed, she repeated in a slow and deliberate tone, "_Tell_ _me_ _how you got the beers"?_ Her eyes shot to Carly, forbidding her to speak.

"We _got_ the beers," Freddie began, also sitting forward, matching Sam's pose, his smile turning mischievous, his face within a foot of hers, "_because_ _Barrington_ _loves_ _us!_" He threw himself back laughing, delighted with the look of utter frustration on his nemesis' face.

"_Aieeeggh"!_ Sam screeched and leaped up from her seat, intent on beating an answer out of Freddie, but Gibby clamped a big paw on her shoulder, forcing the screaming she-devil back into her chair.

"_Dude!_ _Freddie_ . . . _who_ is Barrington and how can we get beers, _too_"? Gibby demanded, calmly.

"Did you know that the legal drinking age in Jamaica is only _eighteen_? So, if all of us were in Jamaica right now, we'd be _legal_," Freddie said, not answering the question, still enjoying the sight of Sam stewing. "Well . . . _at least_ me and Sa_mantha_ would be legal. You two would still have to wait."

_Samantha? I'm going to kill him! _

"Hey, I don't _want_ to wait Freddie," Carly slurred. She grabbed her cup and gulped down the last half inch of warm beer. "I want more _now_. What happened to all the beers, anyway? We're still _cutting_ _loose_, aren't we Freddie," she asked, sounding confused and slightly pathetic. "We going to see Barrington again, _right_ Freddie"?

_That name again_. _**I'm going to scream!**_

Gibby let go of Sam and stood up. "C'mon, _short_ _stuff_ . . . we're outta here. If our _best_ _friends_ don't want to share with us –"

"Alright . . . al_right_," Freddie said, holding up both hands, "chill out. Barrington is this cool Jamaican dude who works at one of the beer stands. His daughter loves _iCarly_ and he recognized us so he's been hooking me and Carly up. We got a few free beers but he couldn't keep doing that but he's still only charging us a buck a beer." Freddie popped up and dodged around the table. "C'mon _Big_ _Man_ . . . let's go and fill-er-up! Sam . . . you keep an eye on Carly."

"_Awwww_ . . . why can't _Gibby_ keep an eye on me? Sam . . . _you_ go with Freddie." Carly protested then inexplicably started out of her seat like _she_ was going. Sam stopped her with a waving hand.

"_Carly_ . . . let the boys go, _ok_? You and I gotta talk anyway." She motioned Gib and Freddie away. "Just go. Hurry up. All this . . . _whatever_ this is," she said with a flurry of hands, "is making me _thirsty_. And if you come back empty-handed . . . _Fredward_ . . . I'm gonna kick your nerdy butt"!

"Oh . . . I'm so _scared_ of you . . . _short_ _stuff_." Freddie deliberately used Gibby's pet name for Sam, which he knew would annoy her. "Are you going to unleash _Puckett Plague_ on me"?

Before Sam could make another run at Freddie, Gibby wrapped his big arm around his much shorter friend's neck and not so gently ushered him away.

"We'll be back," the Big Guy called over his shoulder to the girls.

/\\\/\\\

On the way he started in on Freddie. "What is up with you lately? Why are you being so nasty to Sam? You should be nicer to her, you know. Sam's –"

"Sam's _what_, Gib? Mean? Evil? Nasty to _me_ all the time? Why _should_ I be nice to her? That girl does nothing but make my life miserable."

"So . . . you're just defending yourself . . . is that it? Sam _always_ starts it, right? C'mon bud, you know that's b.s."

"Yeah . . . _that's_ _right_."

"_What's_ right, Freddie . . . you're just defending yourself or _it's all b.s."?_

"Well Gib, I –"

"You're _both_ stubborn and clueless, you know that Freddie? Neither of you–"

"_Fred-dee!_ Wel-comb back, Mon!

Freddie turned to the voice and his face lit up.

"Yep . . . da migh-tee _Fred-dee_ is _back_, Barrington"!

They'd arrived at the lucky kiosk. Gibby never got to finish his thought but wondered: _How drunk is Benson that he's trying to imitate this guy's accent?_

"Barrington, this is –"

"_Gib-bay!_ Ya, Mon, me re-cog-nize 'im from de show. 'im migh-tee big bwoy"!

_So this is Barrington_. The forty-something year old Jamaican's friendly manner caused Gibby to smile wide and to rise to his full six-foot six inches, proudly.

"Barrington, old buddy, we need _more_ _beers_," Freddie stated, confidently.

/\\\/\\\

Sam watched the boys disappear into the distance as she cleared the empty plastic cups and tossed them into the trash, not caring if Freddie wanted to keep his stack or not_. What's up with boys saving bottle caps and cups? It's just trash. This table is sticky and gross. Wish I had some water and paper towels._ Sitting in Freddie's empty seat, back to the fence, Sam joined Carly in absentmindedly watching the comings and goings of the beer garden for a while before she finally spoke.

"_So_ . . . how you doing, _Carls_? How you feeling? How many beers did you –"

"Can I tell you something, Sam"? Carly said eyes vacant, ignoring the questions.

"Sure, Car –"

"It's a _secret_. You can't tell anybody . . . 'specially _Freddie_. I mean . . . 'specially . . . _Gibby_. You know Freddie and Gibby, right"?

_She is so drunk_. _I hope Gib remembers to get water. Freddie's drunk, too. What got into these guys, today?_ _Hot or not, I'm going to hurt Benson good for letting Carly drink so much. _

"Ok Carly, what's up? We promised no more secrets, don't you remember"?

"Yeah . . . 'cuz you _smoochie smoochied_ Freddie and didn't tell me. I'm your best friend, right? But I'm not talking 'bout that 'cuz it's not a secret anymore. I know a _different_ one."

Carly slumped back in her chair, her head lolling on her skinny neck, completely unfocused. Sam sighed_. I guess I'll just have to wait until Carly's ready to spill the beans. _

Tipping the chair against the fence and reaching overhead to lock her fingers around the chain links, Sam closed her eyes and drifted back to the incident from a few years ago. While under the influence of the dentist's laughing gas, she'd apparently blabbed to Carly about the fire escape kiss that she and Freddie had shared. The revelation caused a minor fight that led them to promise not to keep any more secrets from each other. Sam doubted any of them kept the promise. She knew she hadn't. A much scarier memory replaced that one. The vision of the confrontation at Carly's apartment with the two convicts who'd escaped jail by hiding in Spencer's Big Pants sculpture. _We were so lucky those animals only tied us up and took off. They could have done so much worse. Carly and Freddie are so naive. They had no idea how much danger we were in that day_. It made her shudder.

"_Sam_. Hey _Saaa - aaam_."

Startled out of her creepy flashback by the close whispering, Sam's eyes popped open to find Carly standing over her, their faces only inches apart.

"_Holy_ _chiz_, girl . . . you _startled_ me."

"Sam," Carly whispered, taking a deep breath, then blurted out, "I think I like Gibby! I mean . . . I _know_ I like Gibby . . . but what am I supposed to do"? She flopped, arms folded, back into her seat.

A slow smile spread across Sam's face. _How long have I been daydreaming? Why does Carly sound lucid as a judge now? So . . . Carly's flirting with Gibby wasn't just because she had too much to drink. How did I not see this happening?_

"What's the problem"? Sam asked, pushing off the fence so the chair again rested on all four legs. "Just tell him. It's not like you've never dated a guy before."

"Well . . . _yeah_ . . . but it's _Gibby_ . . . _I mean_ . . . he's my _friend _and all . . . and what about Freddie , you know . . . he's liked me since the sixth grade . . .then _you_ _guys_ kissed . . . but it was just a kiss . . . then Freddie saved my life and _we_ kissed and . . . _dated_ . . . _kind_ _of_ . . . but then Freddie was just bacon and – "

Sam couldn't hold her laughter. "I'm sorry, Carly. I don't mean to laugh but when you get going –"

"_Saaaam!_ You're supposed to be helping me, not laughing at me. I thought –"

"Well, look what we got here . . . if it isn't the little witch who stole my beer. Where's your big gorilla boyfriend to show off for now, blondie"?

Caught up in the conversation, Sam hadn't noticed the three college kids from earlier approaching.

_Great. Just what I need . . . this asshole. I hate drunken morons and their 'beer muscles.' That 'gorilla' isn't my boyfriend, shithead. Call him a gorilla when gets back and see what happens. No way I can fight all three of them. Wonder if there's security? Well . . . Dad always taught me that a best defense is a good offense._

"What kind of a _man_ lets a girl _take_ a beer from him? I'll tell you what _kind_ . . . the _loser_ kind." Sam smiled, defiantly.

_Screw this jerk. He touches me, I might not win but he'll know he's in a fight. Gibby will kick his ass for sure. Then I'll get Uncle Carmine to sick some of his boys on him to make him really sorry he screwed with me. Just wish there weren't three of them. _She took note that one of the other two was looking around, nervous, like he didn't want to be doing this. _Maybe that one will help. He looks like he wants no part of this. I wish the guys would hurry back._

"_Whoa_, _dude,_" the other stooge chimed in, "she has a mouth on her! Are you gonna let her talk to you that way"?

Sam did a quick scan to see if anyone was noticing what was happening. The nearest few tables were empty. No one seemed to be paying any attention. The wide grassy aisle was to her left. Carly, drunk, trusting and too nice, smiled benignly not registering what was going down.

"You're a real _bitch_, aren't you"? The leader snarled, coming closer. "You think you're tough. How about I knock that _stupid_ smile off your _stupid_ face"?

_Oh, this guy is a genius. Listen to him. Bet he can't even spell stu –"_

Sam froze in the middle of her thought. In the distance, she could see Gibby and Freddie, returning.

_Hell, yeah . . . it's about to get ugly! Just like after the homecoming football game, these guys are gonna wish they never met Gibby. Wait . . . wasn't Freddie involved in that brawl, too? Holy shit . . . how could I forget? Benson was awesome! _

_/\\\/\\\_

"Barrington is one _cool_ dude, Freddie"!

"I know . . . I _told_ you he was _the_ _Man_"!

Each underage teen had a cardboard drink carrier, full with four beers apiece.

"He said he was divorced? I should introduce him to my mom."

"Funny, Gib. Do you think she'd –"

"_Son-of-a . . ._ _"_ Gibby exclaimed, biting off the curse.

"What? What's the matter"? Freddie asked, confused.

"C'mon, dude. I didn't get a chance to tell you but Sam and I had a run-in with some loser _a-hole_ earlier. Sam put the guy in his place . . . but look."

Freddie followed his giant friend's nod toward the corner where they'd left the girls. Some shirtless guy was hovering over the table, nose-to-nose with Sam. Two others were standing by Carly.

"Those guys touch Sam or Carly, _I'm going to rip their friggin' loser heads of"!_ Freddie said through gritted teeth, quickening his pace.

"Ya got that right, bro"! Gibby agreed, matching the speed.

/\\\/\\\

The apprehensive 'loser' was the first to notice. He smacked the other one on the arm and pointed to Gibby and Freddie setting the beers down on an empty table a few over.

Both took a step back from a nervous Carly Shay.

Before either could bark a warning, Gibby was up on the guy who was in Sam's face. The college kid was probably six feet tall and one-hundred and eighty solid, muscular pounds. Muscles didn't impress Gibby. He'd put his three-hundred pounds against this jerk any day, all day. Especially when it came to standing up for his friends.

As Freddie jammed by, Sam could see in his eyes how angry he was. Certainly angrier than _she'd_ ever made him. He got chest to chest with the bigger guy, forcing him to scuttle backwards towards the center aisle, where he almost tripped. Seeing Freddie like this set Sam Puckett's girly chemistry all a boil.

_Damn_, _Freddie is HOT! _

Adrenaline pumping with all this boy aggression, Sam wished she had her brass knuckles. They were a present from her Uncle Frank on her twelfth birthday. _"Fuh - get about American Express sweetie . . . never leave home wit-out your 'knuckle duster.'_ What a bad day to have ignored that advice.

"What's your problem, _tough_ _guy_? You like bullying women? A little girl took your beer now you're gonna do _what_ . . . punch her in the face? I don't think so, _loser_. You want to punch anyone, _try_ _me_," Gibby said, calm and confident.

The shirtless college kid backed away, eyes wide and locked with those of the infuriated man-child. It was a lot different threatening a hundred pound girl than it was fighting a guy the size of Gibby Gibson. He hadn't quite realized how big this 'gorilla' was when he'd seen him earlier.

_Now_ some of the other patrons across the aisle and at the nearest occupied tables were definitely taking notice. The argument hadn't been particularly loud but it was obvious that something was going on.

Sam didn't hear what was said but suddenly Freddie lashed out with both hands and shoved his rival in the chest, lifting him completely off his feet. The guy landed on his ass and was about to scramble to his feet.

"_**BRANDON! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE? YOU ARE SUCH A LYING JERK"!**_

Everyone whipped their heads towards the screeching female voice. Half the beer garden must have turned to look.

The screaming came from a girl standing just outside the fence. She looked furious. Of average height and build, she was wearing a flowery sundress with long, blondish hair waving out from under a floppy hat. Her oversized sunglasses hid what Sam guessed was a pretty face. Another girl dressed similarly, glared right alongside her.

"_Brandon_, you told me that you _had _to go visit family in Portland this weekend! _You're such a __**LIAR!**_ You better get out here _right_ _now_ and explain yourself! Obviously it's more important for you to hang out with your _stupid_ friends than it is to be with _your __**GIRLFRIEND**_ on _Memorial Day Weekend"!_

Sam smirked_. This is precious! It's almost better than seeing Gibby rip his head off._

Brandon stood there meekly, not sure what to do, his head swiveling from the girlfriend, to Gibby and back again.

"Bro . . . we better go," the kid who Freddie hadn't knocked on his ass, said. _Ah, _Sam thought_, that one never wanted to be part of this in the first place._

Gibby and Freddie, still primed for a fight, continued to stare down the three, who gathered themselves and slowly backed away. They turned and skulked off, weaving their way around tables heading for the opposite corner. It had an exit that Sam hadn't noticed earlier. The girlfriend shadowed along the fence line, berating the entire way.

"Assholes." Gibby spat out angrily, before turning to Sam and Carly.

"You girls alright? They didn't touch either of you, did they"?

"_Shoosh no,_ Gib. I was about to kick his ass, anyway," Sam answered with her usual bravado. "That guy was a _chickenshit_ _loser_. I think he wet himself when you got in his face." _Man, I'm glad the guys got back when they did._

Gibby took a small bottle of water out of the cargo pocket of his baggy shorts and handed it to Sam, then unloaded three more on to the table.

"Carly, you ok"? Freddie asked, placing his arm around his trembling friend. He too had bottles of water in his pockets, one of which he took out, uncapped and handed to Carly who took a big gulp.

"Yeah . . . _I guess_. What was that guy's problem anyway? Why was he so mad at Sam"? Freddie gently ushered a flustered Carly to the table.

"Uh, _guys_," Freddie said just as he sat, "here comes more trouble." They followed Freddie's gaze to see two sturdy looking men in blue t-shirts with the word 'Security' across the front heading towards them.

All four cast anxious glances to the abandoned beer. Sam gave a quick headshake then cracked open and sipped her water. "Listen . . . let me do the talking. None of you guys say a word unless they ask. Especially you two." Sam made serious eyes at Freddie and Carly, who were huddled close.

Surprised to see how old both men were – _These guys are like sixty years old. In good shape, though. Maybe retired cops? – _she decided on a strategy.

"Alright . . . what's going on back here? We were told that there were some kids fighting in this corner. Is that you guys"?

"No . . . _not_ _really_," Sam answered, politely.

"What does _not_ _really_ mean"? The younger of the two repeated, not seeming that interested in an answer.

"_Well_ . . . me and my friend _Carly_ . . . we were just _sitting_ here . . . _like_ chill - _axin'_ . . . ya know . . . waiting for our boyfriends to get back with _l'acqua fresca," _Sam said, holding the water bottle up for emphasis, "and these three losers . . . I mean like . . . _real_ _losers . . . _rolled up on us and were like . . . hey . . . we're _cool_ and why don't you come party with us . . . we're like only _eighteen _. . . ya know." _I should have been in the drama club_.

"Where are these guys now"? The older man asked.

Pointing to the far corner, she continued. "They took off that way. You see . . . when my _boyfriend_ . . . _Gibby_ . . . got back with the water . . . they got all scared . . . because like . . . he's so _like_ big and stuff . . . then that dude's _woman_ showed up and caught him here instead of in Portland so she started . . . _like_ screaming and . . ."

"Ok, ok, ok." The two men exchanged perplexed glances. "You kids haven't been drinking, have you"?

"No . . . _no_ _way_. My mom taught me that drinking is . . . _like_ . . . ya know . . . _bad_ and . . ."

"Alright, _alright_ . . . enough." The younger one looked exasperated. "Look . . . it's ok for you kids to be in here, but stay away from the beer and stay out of trouble. It's a beautiful day . . . have fun and enjoy the festival."

Watching them turn and walk away, Sam hoped and prayed that they wouldn't notice and ask about the unattended beers. Her heart jumped when after a few steps, they spun around and came back.

"And you two _dummies_," the younger one began, motioning towards a dumbfounded Gibby and Freddie. "Take a piece of advice from a couple old guys who've been around . . . don't leave your girls alone. These older kids start drinking and they see two girls sitting by themselves, of course they are going to hit on them." He tapped his finger on his temple. "Be smart. Use your heads."

"Ok . . . let's go, Cal," the older man said, "I'm starving."

They watched security walk right by the beers without even a glance and keep going.

"_And you two dummies, let me give you a piece of old guy advice_," Sam said, in a funny authoritative voice. That got a big laugh from Freddie and Gib. Carly still hadn't recovered from all the commotion.

"I'm getting those beers"! Freddie said, almost immediately.

"Wait, _dummy_," Sam admonished, "at least let them get out of sight. You don't want to get tossed out after all that, _do_ _you"?_

She expected another verbal battle but was pleasantly surprised when Freddie readily agreed.

/\\\/\\\

Beers finally secured, morons permanently banished and security nowhere to be seen, the four fresh high school graduates wiled away the rest of the afternoon drinking, ignoring their cell phones, laughing and reminiscing about their young lives. Carly perked up as soon as she got a fresh beer in her hand. Story after story about high school and _iCarly_ sent them down memory lane. They made some new friends as the tables around them filled up and emptied several times throughout the afternoon and evening. This corner seemed to attract all the fun people. They blew off the concert, its muffled music they continued to hear drifting from the stadium across the street. They were having too much fun, just the four of them. Anyway, the music from the tiny beer garden speakers was enough to get them dancing right where they were. Alcohol had even lowered the inhibitions of the usually conservative Freddie Benson.

Despite her own overindulgence, Sam made it a point to study the actions of her friends as the day passed by. Armed with new information from Gibby about Freddie's possible interest in her as more than a sparring partner, and filled with the sight of her best friend openly flirting with Gib, she had a lot to take in.

Sam couldn't remember a time when Carly and Freddie seemed so carefree_. It must be a lot of pressure being model students, following the rules all the time. I'd rather be me._

Afternoon melted in to evening and the party showed no signs of slowing down. Barrington, who Sam found as charming as the rest had said he was, kept coming through for them. Carly drank way more than she should have and continued to flirt with Gibby, who didn't seem to mind at all. She knew her lightweight best friend was going to regret it in the morning. The drinking and possibly the flirting, too. _Maybe Gib's into Shay? He's not stopping her. Why wouldn't he tell me? How have I not noticed any of this before?_

Gibby seemed a bit sullen at times. The near fight earlier would stay with him for a few days. Gib didn't shake off that kind of confrontation easily. _Maybe he's just a bummed because he can't really drink since he knows he has to drive us home later?_

She found herself paying the most attention to Freddie Benson. He didn't seem at all bothered by Carly's flirting with Gibby. _Is Freddie finally over Carly . . . I hope. I hope?_

It surprised her but they didn't argue once the rest of the day. Even when Freddie put his hands on her hips and around her waist when they danced to a particularly fun song, she didn't protest. _It must be all the beer_.

That was just an excuse and she knew it. Was she finally willing to give in and admit the truth to herself . . . that somehow, some way . . . despite their rocky history . . . she had fallen for Freddie Benson? _How could this happen? Me and Freddie? _

_Maybe Gib is right . . . maybe Benson does have crush on me? He is being really sweet to me this evening. Is he really bating me into all these wrestling matches just so he can get his hands all over me? Maybe Gib is right about that too . . . Freddie lets me win because it's his tricky way of getting me get on top of him. That little perv! I do love getting all grabby with that boy, though. He's got a smokin' physique with all that working out._ _Maybe I'm the perv!_ She remembered a few times where Freddie '_accidentally'_ grazed one of her boobs or had his hand _'accidentally'_ on her butt. It made her blush.

Another of Gibby's remarks from earlier echoed in her head: _"He's never gonna make a move Sammie . . . so you're going to have to."_

She considered thinking of a way to get Freddie alone for a few minutes, but hesitated. _He's_ _drunk_. _I'm_ _drunk. Carly's_ _drunk. Gib's on edge. This isn't the time or place to spill my guts. I know I'll regret it if I do. And what if Gib's completely wrong? Better wait. _

Evening had long ago turned to night and the beer garden was emptying out. The sounds from the concert had fallen silent. Gib and Freddie were quietly discussing the cost of college while Carly was half-asleep in her chair, Gibby's oversize shirt wrapped around her shielding from the night chill. Sam found herself sitting close to Freddie, her arms wrapped awkwardly around his chest for warmth. Neither of them protested the nearness. It was late. They'd squeezed as much fun out of one day as they had in a long time and decided it was time to leave.

Initially taking turns propping Carly up on the walk back to the monorail platform, Freddie finally convinced Gibby it would just be easier to carry her the rest of the short distance.

Arriving back at the mall and the car after the brief monorail ride, Gibby gently deposited a passed out Carly in the back seat. He popped the trunk and handed pillows and blankets to Sam. She was impressed that Gibby would anticipate two very sleepy girls for the ride home.

"To Bushwell Plaza, Charles"! Sam ordered, with a sleepy point from the back seat. It made Gibby smile. In no time, Sam joined Carly in dreamland, each covered by a blanket, pillows nestled up against each other.

With Freddie riding shotgun, the guys drove in silence for a few blocks.

"We have to talk. I have something important to ask you," Gibby said from behind the steering wheel.

"Oh yeah Gib, what's that"?

"Well, it's got to do with the 'bro's code.'

"'Bro's code.' Ok. Cool. What's up"?

Gibby glanced in his rearview mirror to make sure that the girls were asleep. He knew Carly was well passed out. Streetlights alternately lit and unlit the car as they sped under.

"How would you feel if I told you . . . I kind of have a _crush_ on Carly? That I want to ask her out. Would you be cool with that"?

Freddie smiled. _Hm . . . so Gib is in to Carly. She certainly flirted with him enough today. And he's asking me permission_ _like_ _I'm Carly's dad or something._ _What a riot! Of course, he's just respecting the 'bro's code', respecting my history with Carly._

"Are you asking me if I'm finally over my infatuation with Ms. Shay"?

"Yeah. It's cool if you're not, though. I don't want to cause any trouble, especially after all the help you –"

"Gib, it's _cool_. I'm over Carly. If you want to ask her out, it's fine with me."

"Do you think she'll go for it . . . you know . . . say _yes_"?

"Did you see how she was acting? She was flirting with you all day. You must have realized that was what she was doing, right"?

"Well yeah . . . _kind of."_

"Trust me, Gib. If you ask Carly out, she will definitely say yes. That would be cool. After some of those jerks, I'd love to see her dating a great guy like you."

"Thanks, bro."

A few more blocks passed in silence.

"What about you. When are you going to finally make _your_ move"?

"Me? What move are you talking about"?

"Look Freddie, I can see it in your face when you two are together, whether you are at each other's throats or not. And I can see it in her face, too. Isn't it about time you guys cut the shit and admit that you really dig each other"? Gibby motioned with his head towards the back seat.

_Does Gibby know? Of course he knows. The lake party. I knew I shouldn't have opened my big mouth to Wendy._

Freddie angled the visor mirror so he could see into the back seat. He had a clear view of Sam who was breathing evenly, sound asleep. That warm feeling washed over him. _God, she's beautiful._

"I'm pretty sure she has a thing for you, dude."

"Geez Gib, keep it down." Freddie whispered, frantically shaking his head. "You'll wake her up. She'll hear."

"Don't wait too long. Summer is going to fly by. Then it might be too late. You'll be gone and Sam will be here. Other guys won't be so indecisive. You have to make a move sooner or later." Gibby found himself using the same tactic with Freddie as he'd used with Sam earlier. _Gibby, the Love Doctor. _He chuckled inside_. _

Again Freddie looked at Gibby and gave him the _please keep it down _signal_. _He slouched in the seat, knees propped against the dashboard.

"I'll get there Gib. I just have to figure out how. We'll see."

What Freddie didn't see was Sam open one eye and smile wide then nuzzle deeper into to her pillow.

* * *

**_under the table: Ok. I'm back. I wrestled control of this computer and kicked that know-it-all editor back to the boring realm from which he sprang. _**

**_The hacked to bits scenes: Gib and Freddie talking to Barrington and my failed attempt to write a Jamaican accent. I apologize to any Jamaicans I offended with the few lines I did try to write. Not just for that reason. That 'oh-so-clever' conversation was long and pointless and did nothing to advance the narrative._**

**_A long, ugly fight scene. I hope no one is disappointed with that being gone and the way I resolved the situation. It was just that: long, ugly and completely unnecessary. I fell completely out of love with turning Freddie/Gib and Sam in to MMA fighters. _**

**_Much too much dialogue getting out of that scene, and with the bullies and with security and on and on . . ._**

**_Ok, maybe and editor has a function after all. But I do love my elipses!_**

**_I thank you in advance for reading and all reviews read with a smile. Critical reviews welcome. I still feel like Sam's long 'observation' scene as they all hang out doesn't 'build' properly and has some redundancy. If only that snooty editor was of more help. DTaC. _**


End file.
